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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865401">Lessons Learned</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iezzern/pseuds/iezzern'>iezzern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nikandros getting railed by older men [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Drug-Induced Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Fixation, Post-Canon, Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - M/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iezzern/pseuds/iezzern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikandros has noticed Jord staring at him; staring at him in want.<br/>Someone else has noticed, too, and doesn't plan on giving up his lover that easily</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jord/Nikandros (Captive Prince), Jord/Nikandros/Makedon (Captive Prince), Makedon/Nikandros (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nikandros getting railed by older men [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So...this happened<br/>Have a good read</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nikandros greets the rising Akielon sun with a frown. The King has fled his throne and made his residence down in the private gardens again, spending the morning tumbling his lover. Nikandros doesn’t know whether to be exasperated in affection or anger. Nikandros wants to indulge him, give him freedom that had been taken away before, but he also constantly has to remember court matters and Kyroi.</p>
<p>He also dreads entering the garden and possibly finding his King and his husband in a compromising position. His foolish, in-love King.</p>
<p>Nikandros sighs and is about to make way on his gruelling journey, but a strong hand to his shoulder stops him. He turns, hand halfway to his sword, and freezes when his eyes meet Jord’s.</p>
<p>The Veretian Captain has an amused glint in his eye, probably suspecting Nikandros’ predicament. “I can,” he offers, “If you suspect you will combust at the sight of them fucking.”</p>
<p>Nikandros flushes despite himself. Many of the Veretian soldiers and lords now frequenting Ios have made quite the game of how far they can go with their comments before an Akielon inevitably breaks. Jord had not been one of the men to join the game, at first.</p>
<p>Nikandros shoves off his hand with a snort. “Don’t speak about my King that way,” he says, now a half-hearted comment after months of wearing down. These Veretians truly find nothing else interesting. It’s starting to get tiring.</p>
<p>“They probably won’t be done before midday,” Jord continues, and Nikandros rolls his eyes when he finds he can’t really deny the statement. “The Gods help us,” he murmurs and Jord snorts. Making these comments with Jord has become one of Nikandros’ favourite pastimes while their Kings go around making eyes at each other. Both of them hold enough respect for their rulers to not go over the line, but still be exasperated at their antics.</p>
<p>Jord’s hand comes to rest on his wrist. “Thank you for enduring this with me,” he says, and his voice is…different, somehow. Nikandros knows of the looks Jord has thrown his way, the way he’s acted around him. It’s not hard to guess that Jord has developed feelings for him. Nikandros would indulge him, but it seems like the captain is holding his affections back. Like he’s not allowing himself to act on these feelings he has; as if they’re something tender to him. Nikandros is happy to wait and let him figure these feelings out on his own.</p>
<p>“I think we can leave them to it,” Nikandros says, more as an opportunity for Jord to act, “Go spend time somewhere else.”</p>
<p>He’s usually much smoother than that, but thought and word left him when Jord had grabbed onto his hand. There’s a small spark of something deep in his chest, and he doesn’t even dare approach it. Not until Jord can bring himself to make the first move. Nikandros doesn’t want to waste time waiting for someone who might never even approach him.</p>
<p>Nikandros leans into the touch—is about to suggest something more—when he sees an imposing figure behind Jord. Makedon’s never had trouble being noticed. A few inches taller than Damen himself. Chest broad as a barrel. Skin littered with strong, fading scars that suggest years of hard battle. He’s been on the border these last months after the war. Stabilizing it. This will be the first time he’s taking this in.</p>
<p>It’s not hard to see who he’s focusing on. Nikandros draws himself up straight—pulls away from Jord’s hold. “Makedon,” he addresses the commander. Jord turns around with a start. A complicated emotion passes over his face. He steps aside, giving Makedon full leeway to stare Nikandros down.</p>
<p>“I see the Veretians are making themselves at home,” Makedon says, with only a slight hint of distaste. Jord still hears it. Draws his shoulders back and raises his chin. “I should go find the kings,” he says, obviously uncomfortable.</p>
<p>He brushes past Nikandros with a soft touch to his wrist, and their fleeting moment has passed. Nikandros sighs heavily, looking after him as he descends the stairs to the garden. “You didn’t need to…”</p>
<p>“I don’t like the way he was touching you,” Makedon says, an eyebrow asking about implications Nikandros knows is obvious in his face. He doesn’t react to Makedon’s words, just stares at the other man. “And what way was that?” he asks after a moment, the challenge clear in his voice.</p>
<p>Makedon hesitates, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Clearly thinking of words no other commander would tell his Kyros. But Makedon has never been an other commander. And Nikandros has let Makedon take liberties. Even before he was Kyros. Makedon draws closer; tugs Nikandros into a secluded corner by his elbow. He puts them chest to chest, lips brushing against Nikandros’ cheek. He can’t help but feel like a teenager on an illicit tryst.</p>
<p>“Like he wanted to know how you sound in bed,” he drawls, voice pitched low. A stuttering breath escapes Nikandros’ lips, mind reeling at the reminder of just how intimately Makedon knows him. Giving himself to Makedon that first time had been as easy as undressing a slave. It’d been casual; felt like something he’d done before—something he was used to. It’d been like laying down in the lukewarm river at home, relaxing.</p>
<p>His hands ball into fists. “It is none of your business who I take to bed, <em>commander</em>,” he says—knows the reminder of his standing beneath Nikandros will make Makedon bristle. The man pulls away with a scowl. “Strange, I am of the opinion that it <em>is</em> my business,” Makedon comments and Nikandros’ body runs hot.</p>
<p>“You don’t own me,” Nikandros hisses, “Just because you’ve—”</p>
<p>“Bedded you better than any other man?” Makedon interrupts with his fingers running up Nikandros’ arm. A sharp breath escapes Nikandros and he very nearly tips his head to the side to give Makedon better access. The other man likes that. “You know, it’s been a while since—”</p>
<p>“Are we interrupting something?”</p>
<p>Whatever warmth Nikandros had felt is interrupted by Laurent’s scathing, cold tone. He jumps a large step away from Makedon, turning to glare at his King. Both of his Kings are there, with Jord standing awkwardly by their side. Jord’s eyes are locked on the point where Makedon’s fingers had rested, and they seem sad and tired.</p>
<p>“Nothing important, Exalted,” Nikandros replies in a dry tone, ignoring the way Makedon’s looking at him. Laurent doesn’t look like he believes Nikandros at all, eyebrows raised high. Damen has an amused glint in his eyes. Nikandros meets the cold King’s eyes, can’t bring himself to meet Jord’s. Laurent seems aware of the effort.</p>
<p>“Well, you can do <em>nothing important</em> in council meetings with your kings, Nikandros,” Laurent says and Nikandros is very close to rolling his eyes. Instead, he says “Of course, Exalted,” and steps past a quiet Jord.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-:-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You seem to be…close with the commander,” Laurent comments while he swirls wine around in his cup. It’s a common feast they’re currently at—held to honour the kyroi and their choice to support Damen and Laurent in their decision.</p>
<p>Nikandros tenses, leaning away from the man. Damen is smiling at the little snake, indulging him. “Which commander?” he asks, feigning ignorance.</p>
<p>“You know which one,” Laurent says with false indifference. He tilts his head towards Nikandros with a smirk. “Tell me, are you two so familiar because you’re his much-beloved Kyros or have you two fucked?”</p>
<p>Nikandros chokes on air, and his body is fuming with either embarrassment or fury. Damen is smiling; of course he is. “I—That’s not for you to know,” Nikandros manages to get out between gritted teeth and a harsh, angry breath. Laurent shrugs. “Just wondering,” he says, teasingly. Damen sends Nikandros an apologetic look over Laurent’s head. Nikandros wonders about the best way to choke the snake out without Damen finding any trouble with it.</p>
<p>Jord edges closer to the conversation, entirely uncomfortable with the slim lady trying to engage him in conversation. A lady from the North, Nikandros can tell. He finally gives up on trying to be subtle and drops hard down in the seat beside Laurent. To any high-born in the hall, it’s an insult for a captain raised from peasantry to sit with the Kings, and they make it known. Laurent doesn’t care, so Damen doesn’t care, and so Nikandros doesn’t care. He rather likes looking at Jord anyways.</p>
<p>“So, Nikandros,” Laurent says after another glass of wine. His vowels slip over Nikandros’ name, makes it sound like a different name completely. The little King seems to have singled out Nikandros as his main victim of sarcasm and insults today. “How did you and Makedon get to know each other?”</p>
<p>Nikandros stifles the need to sigh out loud. Jord pours himself some wine. Damen is grinning. As far as Nikandros knows, it is only Damen who knows of Nikandros’ first true meeting with Makedon, whispered to him in the sheets while they shared a slave. It had been one of the most illicit things Nikandros ever had told.</p>
<p>Nikandros averts his eyes from Laurent’s piercing gaze and tries not to blush at the memory of his first time with Makedon, which, by all terms, had been part of their first meeting.</p>
<p>Nikandros had rested back on his elbows, thighs spread wide across Makedon’s own. Makedon’s hand had been between his legs, three fingers deep inside Nikandros. He’d looked so proper and composed, as if he was simply running a soldier through his drills.</p>
<p>Nikandros himself had been whining and gasping, squirming on Makedon’s fingers. His body had been ruddy with it, blush spreading wide across his chest. Makedon had been wearing a mask of amusement and arousal.</p>
<p>Nikandros had taken his first man many months before, and many after that again, but he still felt inexperienced in that moment. Laying beneath a commander at least twice his age, and the knowledge—the skill—to show it. He’s bedded men before. Taken them. Not slaves, but men. Soldiers; maybe even other commanders.</p>
<p>Nikandros had thought of how he now would look at Makedon’s relationship with his father. How they would meet over field maps and court meetings; only now Makedon would have the knowledge of how Nikandros sounded like in bed. Of how Nikandros liked to be had. It made him squirm even more.</p>
<p>Makedon had spread him wide, thrown his thighs over his shoulders, and slowly moved himself inside. Nikandros had frozen; tightened up. It was like everything he knew and completely foreign at the same time. After his first man, Nikandros had only had the chance to tumble with soldiers—brothers of the Kingsmeet. And at the Kingsmeet they were all equals, all men in service of the King.</p>
<p>No matter how many of them had him—on his back, against the wall, his hands and knees—none of them completely dared to take charge of him. To press him down and take him without a second thought. Before Makedon had come to visit, Nikandros had reserved himself to not receive a proper bedding until he returned to Ios.</p>
<p>And then the commander had held his gaze in the training arena. Beaten him in the sword. Put him on his back when wrestling. Dragged him from the arena with a hand on his waist. Ordered his soldiers out from his quarters and shut the door. Kept Nikandros there until dawn the next morn.</p>
<p>Nikandros had burned bright red when he’d returned to his brothers and found them smirking with questions of the commander.</p>
<p>He’s pulled out of his musings by a strong hand on his shoulder. Makedon places himself in the chair next to Nikandros, gripping him tightly. Jord seems displeased, thinning lips and averted eyes. Nikandros throws himself into talking to ignore the churning in his gut.</p>
<p>“Makedon has always been a legendary warrior here, to meet him was partway terrifying, partway exhilarating,” Nikandros explains and he can glimpse the start of an eyeroll in Laurent, “I think every young boy in this court has fantasized about what it’d be like meeting him.”</p>
<p>Makedon chuckles with the good-natured bashfulness of anyone being complimented to others. He leans back, chiton rippling over his abdomen, and rubs his fingers up and down Nikandros’ nape.</p>
<p>“I don’t recall, really, how I felt about him before we met,” Nikandros starts and then catches Damen’s glimmering eyes. He rushes to recover, before Damen gets the chance to say anything worse. “Of course, after the mountain skirmishes, the entire country was speaking of him; it was difficult not to get intrigued.”</p>
<p>He hopes, in vain, that it’ll fend of Damen’s inevitable teasing. It doesn’t.</p>
<p>"I <em>distinctly</em> remember," Damen says, smirking, "You declared you would marry him."</p>
<p>Nikandros' face burns bright while Makedon bellows, deep laughter vibrating through his chest. Nikandros feels it in the bottom of his stomach. Laurent glances at Nikandros with his eyebrows raised, but thankfully doesn’t say anything. Nikandros fears he wouldn’t endure such a verbal flaying.</p>
<p>Jord’s gaze on him is scorching and Nikandros silently curses. He can see the chance of the two of them starting any kind of relationship slipping away. As far as Nikandros knows, Jord doesn’t have such a good experience with nobility, especially ones that seem like they’re toying with him. And Nikandros has been suggesting things, implying he wants Jord, and then Makedon comes and gets his full attention. It’s not surprising Jord has turned hostile.</p>
<p>“I was a child,” Nikandros murmurs, glancing over at his amused friend, “You would excuse me.”</p>
<p>Makedon shakes Nikandros by the nape and his face warms at the reminder of what had happened last time he did that. “Be careful with your words, now,” the man chuckles, all good-natured, “You’re teetering very close to the edge of insults here.”</p>
<p>Before Nikandros can even start stuttering an apology, Makedon starts laughing again. He’d always liked to make Nikandros blush; embarrassed. Nikandros sighs and leans back in his chair, lets Makedon’s arm slide around his shoulder and hold tight there. Nikandros glances up at the Commander, expecting a leer, but Makedon’s attention is trained on Jord. His eyes are narrow. Calculating.</p>
<p>Jord has met his gaze, cool and detached. Nikandros realizes with a start that Jord has given up. Given up this whisper of a pursuit, all due to Makedon’s ministrations. There’s a tensing—a hurt—in Nikandros’ chest when the thought enters his mind. He wouldn’t say he’s <em>in love</em> with Jord, but there’s certainly <em>something </em>there. Something he wants to build on and pursue.</p>
<p>He starts to lean away from Makedon’s touch, but the older man interrupts the action by drawing Nikandros close while staring into Jord’s eyes. “I think it is time to retire, don’t you, Captain?” he says, voice pitched low. Nikandros uses a few seconds to realize Makedon is talking to Jord and not him.</p>
<p>The Veretian sputters, red-faced, for a moment, as if he’s been insulted. Makedon just keeps his gaze steady, halfway the way to amused. His hold on Nikandros is steady, a promise of something far too good to say no to. But Nikandros realizes, with a start, that he doesn’t want it to happen without Jord there.</p>
<p>Then Makedon rises, tugging Nikandros along with him, and lays his hand on Jord’s wrist. Jord stares at it for a moment before he turns his eyes to Nikandros, questioning. Nikandros nods, without hesitation.</p>
<p>Jord then stands up himself and lets Makedon guide the two of them out of the dining hall. The air around them is filled with anticipation; the darkened hallway they’ve made their way into only heightens the feeling. Makedon drops his hand under Nikandros’ chiton and lets his fingers tease there.</p>
<p>Jord notices, Nikandros knows, because a small noise escapes his lips. His eyes are stuck there, on the edge of Nikandros’ chiton where Makedon’s fingers are running along Nikandros’ skin. Nikandros thanks all the Gods that there are no guards positioned here.</p>
<p>Especially when they reach the doors of Makedon’s chambers and Makedon throws his own back against the wall and pulls Nikandros against his chest. Jord ends up a small distance away, eyes still fixated on Nikandros’ thighs—where his arousal is clearly visible.</p>
<p>Nikandros blushes brighter than he ever has before and leans back into Makedon's touch. "You want to watch, eh?" Makedon says to Jord, who is also blushing profusely. "Then watch and learn, Captain.”</p>
<p>Jord stutters something, but Nikandros can't bear to pay attention because Makedon had slid his hand down his coppery stomach and teased just above his cock.</p>
<p>"Who knows, maybe I'll be a better lover than Theomedes-Exalted."</p>
<p>And Nikandros' hips hitch high at both the indiscretion and memory. Makedon should not mention the Previous King as such, it's more insulting than anything, but Nikandros can't help the way it lights up his body. The memory of that sweet spring morning when Damen had left Nikandros in the Royal Garden to chase a slave, and Theomedes Exalted had sat down beside him, a big, strong hand on his thigh. The rest had come quickly.</p>
<p>Those were five hours he will never forget.</p>
<p>Damen didn't know. Still didn't, and never will. Nikandros doesn't know how Makedon knows. Doesn't want to imagine how he might have befallen that information. Jord looks like he’s been slapped, only not in the devastating way. He’s looking at Nikandros in a way that makes him run hot all over. It’s the first time Jord’s seen him like this. Outside the chain of command and being thrown around by another. Nikandros can imagine it to be a strange revelation.</p>
<p>“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jord says.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nikandros is pushed through the door with no propriety, stumbling over his own feet. Makedon’s chambers are darkly lit, and sparingly decorated. His bed, though, is covered in knitted shawls and fur pelts, an intimidating image. “Go sit,” he orders Jord while pointing at the headboard, leaving no room for argument. Jord scrambles to obey, eyes still following Makedon and Nikandros across the room.</p><p>Makedon leads Nikandros over to his cabinets and pulls out a pink-tinted phial. Nikandros has seen it before. His chest tightens in anticipation. Makedon unstoppers the bottle and holds the <em>chalis</em> up to Nikandros’ lips. “Drink,” he says. Nikandros obeys.</p><p>The <em>chalis</em> burns down his throat and immediately sets heavy in his belly, warming him up from the inside. Makedon intends to keep him, and Jord, here long—even maybe until dawn.</p><p>Jord is making himself comfortable on Makedon’s bed—or, as comfortable one can get when sitting in another man’s bed. His jacket’s gone, his pants and undershirt unlaced. Nikandros had never considered promiscuity arousing before.</p><p>His body is responding, far too quickly and far too desperately. Nikandros wants to chalk it all up to the <em>chalis</em> ravaging him. Makedon manhandles him towards the bed, hot breath hitting Nikandros’ neck.</p><p>He unceremoniously pushes Nikandros down onto the furs. Nikandros barely has time to catch himself before Makedon tugs his hips up and thumbs at Nikandros’ behind. Nikandros bites his lip to stifle a groan.</p><p>Then Makedon is shoving him forward, one hand still on his hip, until he’s kneeling between Jord’s spread legs. Their eyes meet. Jord’s are heavy-lidded, with a glint of mischief in them. Nikandros doesn’t even want to think about what he must look like.</p><p>Makedon’s hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, pushing down. Nikandros goes along pliantly. Jord leans further and further back the closer Nikandros gets and, eventually, he’s laid down on his back with Nikandros over him. Their lips are nearly brushing each other.</p><p>Makedon’s hands leave Nikandros, and he’s left flailing for support in the air. He falls forward, catches himself on his elbows on either side of Jord’s head. Jord’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, his hair fanned out beneath him. His eyes keep flickering down to Nikandros’ lips. It makes a striking image. Makedon has moved to reach for something in the bedside table. Nikandros doesn’t need to wonder what it is he’s looking for.</p><p>Jord tentatively reaches up and brushes his hand through Nikandros’ curls. Nikandros blushes slightly. He’s bent over Jord, drugged up on <em>chalis</em> and hard against the other man’s thigh, and still it’s this softness from Jord that makes him blush like a maid on her wedding night.</p><p>“I didn’t imagine it to be like this,” Jord mutters and Nikandros hides his face down by his cheek. It’s a pleasing thought—the thought of Jord imagining him in bed.</p><p>Makedon resumes his position behind Nikandros, returning with a hand stroking over Nikandros’ behind. They’re warmed, slippery with oils. Makedon drops a bottle on the furs beside Nikandros’ hips. He runs his fingers up and down Nikandros’ crack, letting his fingertips catch on his hole. Nikandros shivers slightly.</p><p>Jord’s hands drag down Nikandros’ chest. His eyes are following them. Makedon’s fingers are playing at his skin, rubbing in circles and finding creative ways to waste the oil. “Just get on with it,” Nikandros hisses to Makedon, turning his head back to stare.</p><p>Makedon just looks amused. “Be patient, now,” he says and teases at his hole again. Nikandros catches the whine in his throat before it can escape, but his thighs are already shaking. Jord’s hands are scorching on his abdomen.</p><p>Makedon dips one finger in, humming at the warmth he finds. Nikandros bites his lip and Jord puts his thumb in-between to stop it. Nikandros sucks on it, mind too addled to think over what he’s doing. Jord makes a strangled sound.</p><p>Makedon burrows his finger deeper, so much bigger than Nikandros has gotten used to lately. He keeps it hooked there, caressing at Nikandros’ perineum. He hasn’t forgotten what it takes to make Nikandros squirm. Not even when the incident at the Kingsmeet was years ago.</p><p>Nikandros can do nothing but hide his face again, breathing in short bursts against Jord’s collarbone. He’s making small noises in the back of his throat—almost whining. Makedon’s unoccupied hand makes its way from the bottom of Nikandros’ spine, to the top of it. Nikandros shivers.</p><p>Makedon eases a second finger in beside the first one, letting them rest there heavy and filling for a while. Nikandros breathes his way through it. Jord’s hardness is pressing against his thigh, constantly reminding him of not only the Veretian’s presence but also just how close they’re laying.</p><p>Makedon slowly pulls his fingers out and then pushes them in again. He splays them wide, too—tugging. “It’s been a long time since you’ve let anyone do this,” Makedon can tell, and Nikandros hears the smirk in his voice. Nikandros clenches his teeth to keep from saying something embarrassing.</p><p>His hips hitch, though, and Jord’s hands go to keep them still. His thumbs run back and forth. Makedon grasps after the bottle, and—one-handed—spills more oil over where his fingers are buried in Nikandros. He then applies one more finger. It stings slightly, but Nikandros has endured worse. He simply forces his hips in a more comfortable position, canting them up and arching his back.</p><p>Makedon lets out a condescending snort and presses his fingers in further. Nikandros’ thighs are shaking by now, aching. He’d missed this. The complete and utter dominance Makedon is displaying over him. How casual he is in it. He hopes Jord is the same kind of lover. Hopes they fit together in bed the same way they fit together in court politics.</p><p>Makedon gives a particularly rough thrust, as if he could tell Nikandros’ mind was going in a different direction. “Now, <em>this</em>, my dear Captain,” Makedon says, “Is how Akielons fuck.”</p><p>His hand lands on the back of Nikandros’ neck, pressing down. “Properly.”</p><p>He teases with a fourth finger against Nikandros’ reddened hole. Starts dipping it in and then slips out again, constantly keeping Nikandros on edge. “Deeply.”</p><p>Makedon twists his finger, purposefully but lightly tapping against a spot that lights up Nikandros’ insides. “And rarely do we stop before our dear partner is a sweet, little mess.”</p><p> Nikandros closes his eyes as he finally feels Makedon finally add that fourth finger. He can’t bear looking at Jord in his eyes at this moment. Jord rubs his hands up and down Nikandros’ sides, making soothing noises.</p><p>“Settle down, now, dear,” he says and Nikandros runs hot all over. He’s sure he’s stopped breathing for a moment, before he whines low in his throat and scatters small kisses along Jord’s chest. The shaking has now spread from his thighs to his entire body. The combination of having to hold himself up above Jord and Makedon’s ministration is making sure of that.</p><p>Nikandros shoves his rear closer up against Makedon, trying to urge him on. It won’t work. It never has before. Makedon lays his thumb flat against his behind, pressing his fingers as far as they can go inside. Makedon has always had bigger hands than Nikandros, and he feels it greatly now—the difference from his own fingers, which he’s gotten used to.</p><p>Nikandros tries to urge him again, only to receive a short, sharp slap on his behind. “Be good and still now, boy,” Makedon drawls with a faint whisper of amusement. Nikandros wants to obey, but the <em>chalis</em> wants pleasure. “Please,” Nikandros whispers, “Give me more.”</p><p>Makedon chuckles.</p><p> Jord’s hands come up to rest on his cheek. “Open your eyes, sweet,” he says, “Let me see you.”</p><p>Nikandros can do nothing but obey. He meets Jord’s faint blue ones when he does, all yearning and attentive. Jord’s fingers brush his cheek, soft and caring. Nikandros gasps out a breath and turns his head to suck on them. Jord stiffens, body going rigid. Makedon rumbles a laugh.</p><p>“He gets quite sweet, doesn’t he?” he says to Jord, teasing. Jord nods, absentmindedly, staring in awe at the Kyros. He’s always seen a collected and calm Nikandros, a commander of land and men, and here he is a simple lover, away from his authority. Nikandros squirms.</p><p>“I think you’ve kept him waiting long enough,” Jord comments, stroking his thumb along Nikandros’ lower lip. Nikandros chases after it to lick at it again. “By the Gods,” Jord mutters.</p><p>Makedon’s fingers grow to a halting stop, giving Nikandros some blessed peace. The man pulls his hands away, running them along Nikandros’ thighs instead—massaging them. Nikandros doesn’t hold back his pleased groan. With Makedon’s hands gone, Jord takes the opportunity to run his own down Nikandros’ back and to his rear.</p><p>He feels along there, and dips his fingers into Nikandros’ flushed, tender entrance. Nikandros makes a small, tentative noise and finds himself hiding again. Jord’s hands are foreign and cold; even more exciting.</p><p>Makedon reaches out a hand and a moment later Nikandros hears the bottle being unstopped again. He licks his lips. “Move your hands away, boy,” Makedon orders Jord and the Captain quickly pulls them away. Even him, in all his pride, can’t reject an order from Makedon.</p><p>Makedon moves behind him, not even a question of what he’s doing. Then his hands are back on Nikandros’ hips, overlapping Jord’s. With both of them there, they manage to keep his hips mostly still; just a few convulsions now and then. Nikandros readies himself, clutching tightly onto the bedsheet and canting his hips up to best please Makedon. He knows it’s well-received when the man hums appreciatively. He knows how Makedon likes it.</p><p>Makedon fits himself along the back of Nikandros’ thighs, and <em>finally</em> Nikandros can feel that hardness against his skin, his thigh. “Oh,” he stutters out. So very reminded of their first time together. Jord runs a hand through Nikandros’ hair and then brings them back to his lips, letting him suckle on them again.</p><p>Makedon lines himself up and starts pressing in. Nikandros chokes on a breath. Makedon was right. It’s been a long time and even among Akielons, Makedon is ridiculously large. Only just the tip already feels incredibly filling. Nikandros has even heard soldiers complaining of it—in the good way, of course.</p><p>And Makedon is always mindful; always making sure his partner can accommodate for his size. He’s only rough with Nikandros because he knows Nikandros’ personal tastes well by now. Just as Nikandros knows Makedon’s.</p><p>“You feeling good, there, boy?” Makedon asks, and Nikandros has heard it enough times by now to know it’s not a thinly veiled insult. “Yes,” Nikandros stutters, biting his lip. Jord makes a sound of protest at that, and lets his fingertips wander over the tender flesh. He seems to have found his favourite place on Nikandros’ body. Nikandros grins at the thought of how many pleasures he can bring Jord with it.</p><p>Makedon pushes in further and it feels like <em>so much,</em> but Nikandros knows he’s not even halfway in yet. Makedon eventually lets go of his own cock, and places his hands on Nikandros’ hips to steady himself. He continues pushing in, dragging against Nikandros’ insides and making them quiver.</p><p>He’s making an effort to hold himself back, Nikandros can tell by the trembling of his hips. How they hitch back and forth, in quick bursts. There’s a small sting, but Nikandros lets himself get distracted by Jord’s fingers still playing on his tongue. He rolls it around them, letting his teeth graze along.</p><p>Jord entangles his other hand in Nikandros’ curls. Tugs at them. When he has confirmation Nikandros doesn’t dislike it, he forcefully pushes at his head, controlling his movements. The two of them have complete control now, ruling over Nikandros’ body however they want—and Nikandros isn’t stopping them.</p><p>He doesn’t want to stop them.</p><p>It’s been far too long since he’s been allowed this and now that he finally has it, he’s going to indulge in it. He’s going to bask in it—let Makedon and Jord spoil him and wreck him for the night. Makedon stops his movements abruptly, heaving in a heavy breath. “Goodness, you’re too tight,” he says, and delivers a sharp slap to the back of Nikandros’ thigh.</p><p>“Apologies, sir,” Nikandros bites out, smirking at the memory he knows he’ll recall in the General’s mind. The memory of Nikandros stuttering it out, within Makedon’s chamber in the Kingsmeet, seated atop Makedon’s strong thighs with watery eyes and hitching breath.</p><p>Makedon growls low in his throat and slams himself in to the hilt in one quick motion. Nikandros cries out, voice rough, and very nearly falls down over Jord. He gets as far as to lean their foreheads together. Jord’s hands come to rest at his cheeks, thumbs rubbing back and forth.</p><p>Nikandros is still letting out hiccupping breaths, body shaking. Makedon is solid and hard behind him, unmoving and unyielding. The Commander not affected by any challenge thrown his way. His hands grip Nikandros’ hips hard, and his tugging at them—as if to press himself even deeper inside Nikandros.</p><p>Nikandros’ knees slip on the furs and only now does he realize his skin is slightly gleaming with sweat. Makedon has heavy curtains drawn completely over the windows, blocking out any whisper of air. At the same time, his fireplace is lit. Without Nikandros even noticing, it’s become unbearably hot inside the room.</p><p>He whimpers, a foreign action for him, and tries to regain his posture. It’s useless, with Jord running his hands whenever he can and Makedon adjusting himself inside him. Pleasure, pain and euphoria are rushing through his veins—sparking up his spine.</p><p>It builds up his thighs and sits there in a knot until Makedon decides he can have the satisfaction. The <em>chalis</em> is just making everything many times worse, burning his body and clouding his head. Still, he tries. It’s like being caught on a fishhook; that vacuum in his belly tightening indescribably, hanging helpless between two men who can do whatever they want to him.</p><p>Makedon drags his hips back, so very slowly, and then slams them in again—just as roughly as before. Nikandros releases an embarrassing sound halfway between a moan and a whimper, and grabs onto one of Jord’s hands, clutching at it.</p><p>Jord’s skin is cool against his, grounding him where his mind was about to evaporate. It’s surprising, how calm Jord is. How he’s just laying there between Nikandros’ thighs and just watching. It seems he <em>likes</em> watching.</p><p>Nikandros stores that information away for a later day. A day where Jord’s presence in his bed is a constant, sure thing. Jord pushes a knee up, pressing it against Nikandros’ naked erection. It also helps in stopping Nikandros’ continuous movement, too desperate and sudden for Makedon to fully curb with his grip. When they’re kept still like this, Nikandros can feel nothing but Makedon behind him—inside him. He’s pressing against that spot.</p><p>That one damning spot that makes Nikandros weak to his knees and leaves him a shuddering mess. And, yet, it doesn’t feel like something too much—something he’ll only be grazed to have on special occasion. It’s natural in its presence. It’s something he always can and will have.</p><p>It’s not something extraordinary that renders him in awe. It’s just good. Incredibly, lovingly <em>good</em>. And according to everything he’s ever been taught he’s allowed that desire to just <em>feel good</em>.</p><p>Makedon is doing such purposely, Nikandros can tell.  Could recognize all of the Commander’s small tells and habits since the very first time they lay together. Sometimes he exploits it, sometimes not. It depends on how rough he wants it. Right now, though, he is in no condition to do any of the sorts.</p><p>So all he <em>can</em> do is indulge his own pleasure for as long as he can. Makedon jolts him out of his thoughts with a quick, snapping thrust and Nikandros chokes on a plea for more. Makedon only laughs and refuses to give it to him. Jord seems to take pity on him and presses his thigh harder against Nikandros’ sensitive member.</p><p>Nikandros goes to pull away from him, but is stopped by Jord’s hand in his hair, tugging him closer again by his curls. “Stay,” Jord orders. Nikandros closes his eyes and tries to forget just how close he was to coming just a few seconds earlier.</p><p>Jord’s hand stays where it is, even if it’s not applying force anymore. Nikandros likes it that way. Makedon’s thrusts have turned quicker now, not by a large margin but still enough to be noticed. The man’s buried himself to the hilt and is grinding in, barely even pulling out.</p><p>Makedon has a preference for that, Nikandros knows from experience. He adores barely leaving his partner, staying in their warmth for as long as he can, pushing their bodies to their extreme limits. Nikandros had once been caught on his cock for an entire hour, squirming and whining.</p><p>Makedon had made Nikandros come three times before he did himself. Later, the man had said Nikandros deserved nothing less. Jord is trailing his fingers over Nikandros’ cheek, over his lips, down his throat, over his brow, down his chest.</p><p>It heightens every sense Nikandros has, makes him so aware of where his body is being touched and fucked. Makedon speeds up, only slightly, again. He likes to take his time. Nikandros despises and adores it at the same time. “It’ll be fine, dear,” Jord is promising, “You need only be good for a little while longer.”</p><p>Nikandros knows Makedon will keep this up for as long as he wants, no matter how kind Jord attempts to be about it.  Nikandros licks his lips when Makedon bends down over his back and press a kiss to his flushing shoulder. He bites there, afterwards, only because he knows he can get away with it.</p><p>He stays bent over him, leaving Nikandros helplessly pinned between them with his breath stuck in his throat. By the Gods, this was a feeling better than anything he’d ever felt before. He hopes he’ll be able to convince Jord to let other people into their bed on occasion, because having two on each side is something Nikandros wants to experience again.</p><p>Makedon changes pace so quickly that it makes Nikandros keen. Jord shushes him again. Makedon’s hips are slamming against Nikandros’, the sound echoing through the room. His cock drags against Nikandros’ insides, lighting him up from inside and leaving his body jerking.</p><p>Nikandros can’t help but make hiccupping, hurt noises in sync with his thrusts, body rocking back and forth with all the force Makedon is using. Jord’s hips hitch up a little, his eyes never leaving Nikandros. They follow every single twitch of his lips every bit and every time his tongue sweeps out.</p><p>Jord’s hand reaches out to tug at Nikandros’ hardness. “Don’t,” Makedon orders, leaving no room for arguments, “If he’s to get release, he’ll find it without touch.”</p><p>Nikandros whines low in his throat, but not in protest. Coming untouched is such a different sensation that always leaves him supple and soft. Makedon refuses to let him come any other way. It’s the thing Nikandros most appreciates about the man’s habits in bed.</p><p>Jord quickly pulls his hand away, as if burned, and lays it on his thigh. “So you Veretians <em>can</em> show restraint,” Makedon laughs, and thrusts particularly hard in. Nikandros collapses down on his elbows with a resigned groan. His temple rubs against the linen of Jord’s shirt.</p><p>He has no spare energy now—he’s spent and exhausted—so all he can do is lay there and take it. Jord grabs his hand to hold it, and squeezes. Makedon’s thrusts get rougher and rougher, until he’s almost rutting into Nikandros’ willing body without much thought. The filthy sounds echo through the room, returning to Nikandros’ ears in squelches and slaps.</p><p>He closes his eyes tight and wishes he could cover his ears; doesn’t want to hear it like this. Finds it voyeuristic in a sense. It’s all too much. Jord underneath him, Makedon over him, his body a mess between them.</p><p>Warmth seeps through his bones, through his muscles. It gathers at his core, rising and rising. Soon, it’s unbearable. An itching, a pressure, deep inside him that only worsens the longer Makedon keeps up his activities.</p><p>He so very desperately wants to reach a hand down and tug at his own cock, but Makedon has ordered him not to. And following Makedon’s orders seems much more satisfactory than disobeying them at this moment.</p><p>Nikandros only bows his head and opens his mouth in a silent groan as the warmth, the tickling, reaches its peak and then drenches him. It floods through his body like a wave and he feels himself come, wet against Jord’s thigh. He tightens around Makedon, every muscle growing taunt. Makedon groans at it, thrusts growing sloppy.</p><p>“You always tighten up so good,” he groans.</p><p>Nikandros, still overcome with the sensation of his orgasm, can only make a faint sound in return. His entire body feels boneless, thighs shaking and hands clutching at the furs. He wants nothing more than to drop down on top of Jord, and just lay there.</p><p>But Makedon isn’t stopping—isn’t letting him rest, he keeps the Kyros where he is and moves his hips in tight circles. Nikandros is shaking with overstimulation and oversensitivity, but he won’t ask Makedon to stop.</p><p>He’s grown to love this feeling. Makedon’s hips stutter in that certain way of theirs, without rhythm or pattern, a tell-tale sign that Makedon’s close to the edge. “Inside,” Nikandros says, knows Makedon enjoys it, “Come inside me, please.”</p><p>Makedon groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through Nikandros’ entire body. His thrusts turn sloppy, unfocused, and, with a final shout, the man spends deep inside Nikandros. It’s hot where Makedon’s release spills inside and Nikandros bites his lip at the feeling.</p><p>Makedon grinds in through it all, savouring the feeling of Nikandros clenching around him. Some would call it a selfish thing, but Nikandros loves the feeling of it. Loves the feeling of Makedon coming and coming and coming inside him; the feeling of him slowly growing soft; the feeling of his warm thighs retreating.</p><p>He pulls out with a grunt and lets Nikandros collapse against Jord. “Good boy,” he says, halfway condescending, and pats at Nikandros’ behind. Nikandros is close to curling up on Jord’s chest, but his orgasm-rattled brain tells him that Makedon hasn’t ordered him to—and so he can’t.</p><p>“Now, then,” Makedon says, and it’s infuriating that he still sounds calm and collected, “Have your turn, Captain.”</p><p>Nikandros’ breath stutters, and he can feel Jord’s do the same.</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>This was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Nikandros realizes—should’ve realized before—that Makedon wouldn’t drag Jord here just to show him how good he could give it to Nikandros. Nikandros’ stomach turns at the thought of taking another man, mere seconds after giving himself to Makedon. His body wants it, though. Is burning for it, in fact.</p><p>“E—Excuse me?” Jord asks, voice wavering and unsure. He really hadn’t expected this, it seems. Not surprising. According to all Veretian prejudices and rumours, Akielons faint at the idea of sharing their experience with more than one person—It’s no wonder he’s confused.</p><p>Makedon shuffles backwards on his knees. “You heard me,” he drawls, “Have him. Whatever way you like.”</p><p>Jord seems breathless, staring at Nikandros with wide eyes. Nikandros himself feels like a mess. The <em>chalis</em> is rushing through his body, leaving his hips quaking. Makedon’s spend is pooling inside him, his insides tender and supple. And still, his manhood hasn’t softened. He still hasn’t had enough. He <em>needs</em> more.</p><p>“Jord,” he whines, “Please, do as he says. Please. I need you, fuck me.”</p><p>His face burns. He’s never really been free with his words in bed. He’s let others say what needs to be said. But the <em>chalis</em> is softening him. Weakening him. Making him hot for it. Jord lets out a short breath through his nose, incredulous.</p><p>“Give it to him, Captain,” Makedon’s voice cuts in, “Look at him, he needs it so <em>badly</em>.”</p><p>Jord swallows and then twists himself from under Nikandros, leaving him to sprawl in the furs. Their softness is a relief against Nikandros’ sensitive skin, but he’s still so very aware of Jord behind him, and Makedon by their side.</p><p>Jord shuffles around the bed and grabs onto Nikandros’ hips, rubbing his thumbs over them. He tugs questioningly at them three times, before deciding that Nikandros is far too weak to get up on his knees, and letting them rest down on the furs again. “So lovely,” Jord breathes, as if he didn’t really mean for it to slip out.</p><p>Makedon hums in agreement, and moves closer to Nikandros’ waist to let his fingers travel over Nikandros’ back. Nikandros whines, hips twitching. Jord lets his hands wander, squeezing at Nikandros’ behind and spreading his cheeks. Nikandros shudders at the air rushing in.</p><p>He can hear the rustling of Jord’s pants being pushed down—not far, but far enough to do what was needed. A combination of bare, warm skin and thick, coarse cotton brush over the back of Nikandros’ thighs. Jord’s hands come to rest on the furs on either side of Nikandros’ hips.</p><p>His warmth comes to lean over Nikandros’ back, and Nikandros can feel his length bumping against his behind. Warm and thick. Nikandros wants to grind his hips back against it, but finds he doesn’t have the energy to.</p><p>He doesn’t even <em>need</em> to do it. Jord is already pressing down and in, steady and slow. It’s overwhelming in the best way, sensations at war in Nikandros’ head. Jord lets out a chest-deep groan as he slowly sinks in.</p><p>Their hips are pressed flush against each other’s, Jord fitted snug and comfortable inside him. He starts pulling his cock out—to the tip—and then thrusts it in again. Nikandros whimpers, quietly at the back of his throat, his lips slightly parted.</p><p>Jord doesn’t tease as much as Makedon, much less focused on dragging it out for Nikandros and more focused on chasing his own pleasure. His thrusts are uncoordinated and rough, wetly slapping against Nikandros’ sweat and cum-slicked behind. Nikandros likes it.</p><p>Jord repositions his hands closer to Nikandros’ hips, hitching his knees up to get a better position. Even if this position gives him the chance to grind in deep, Jord keeps pulling almost all the way out before slamming himself in again in almost violent thrusts. Nikandros can’t deny he enjoys the foreign feeling of it. Makedon seems to enjoy it, too, by the way he keeps praising Jord’s efforts with warmth, while he rubs the pad of his thumb against Nikandros’ lips.</p><p>Jord is already close—not too much of a surprise considering the show he got earlier. Nikandros presses his legs close together, tightening himself up for Jord. Jord lets himself fall down closer over Nikandros with a loud groan, lips brushing at his nape. “Good boy,” he murmurs.</p><p>Nikandros’ legs spasm. Small shocks of pleasure kick up his spine with each thrust and dun out in subtle, rolling waves of post-ecstasy. A tight core gathers low in his hips again, and Nikandros utters wordless yells against the bedding as a second, more mellow orgasm rolls over him.</p><p>The next minutes are a blur for him—sensitivity and neediness tumbling over each other and playing at his body. Jord finishes in that time, hips stuttering and pressing in hard. Nikandros can feel his spend trickling out past his cock.</p><p>Jord pulls out, with a wince from Nikandros, and falls down on the opposite side of Makedon. He reaches out to trail his fingers through Nikandros’ hair. Makedon’s body retreats from the bed; probably to retrieve a towel or something else to clean them up with.</p><p>“You were amazing,” Nikandros murmurs in softness he barely allows himself. He reaches out to touch at Jord’s wrist. Jord blushes slightly. Nikandros realizes, disgruntled, that Jord is still completely clothed.</p><p>“Take these off,” he says, and yanks at Jord’s shirt. Jord chuckles, but follows his order. Makedon returns with some damp towels, and starts rubbing Nikandros down. The towel, lukewarm, is a calming presence. A heavy, comforting silence falls over them as Makedon cleans up Nikandros and Jord undresses.</p><p>Jord slides down on the bed and sticks himself to Nikandros’ side. Makedon grunts and throws aside the soiled towel. “I’d rather like to bathe you, Kyros,” he says, all formality. Nikandros grins. So Makedon wants to introduce Jord to this game of theirs, too.</p><p>“And shall you fuck me when you do?” he asks, twisting himself onto his back like a sun-drunk cat. Jord makes a startled sound, eyes growing wide. He looks back and forth between the two Akielons, as if he’s seeing them in a completely new light. “If you wish me to, Kyros,” Makedon responds with an amused glint in his eyes.</p><p>“I wish you to,” Nikandros responds, while wrapping his hand around Jord’s wrist to make sure he knows he’ll be involved in it. The <em>chalis</em> is still burning in his veins, but more subdued now, satisfied. At least for a while.</p><p> “Just give me a short hour to recover.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay....Thank you for reading, this has certainly been...a journey....<br/>Honestly, the world deserves more fics of Nikandros getting railed tbh, he's such a bottom<br/>Leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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